


That Truth We Chase

by HunterPeverell



Series: Unchangeable 'Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Fix-It, Gen, Post-Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe In Miracles?, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, Season/Series 09 Spoilers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterPeverell/pseuds/HunterPeverell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam . . . doesn't know what's going on. Like, at all.</p><p>Companion to 'Unchangeable' and 'Always Gold to Me'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Truth We Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So here’s more of the Unchangeable ‘Verse. Hope you like it—it’s Sammy’s point of view ;) I end it similarly to Dean’s, so there’s no new event that really happens. Sorry ‘bout that. I know that a lot of you were confused as to what was going on with the whole 'normal life' thing, but I will explain more thoroughly in the next part.
> 
> The sequel is taking longer than expected, due to writer's block. It probably won't be as long as 'Unchangeable', but it'll be out in October sometime, hopefully. Tell me what you guys kind of want to see, and I'll see if it'll fit into the story. I hope you all enjoy, and please let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin or it’d still be going on!
> 
> Title is from ‘Ghost Towns’ by Radical Face
> 
> 5/15/16: This story has been edited. It's certainly not perfect, but it's better, I hope. Please let me know if you spot anything. It would mean a lot to me. I want to keep improving.

_“I've got no need for open roads_  
_'Cause all I own fits on my back_  
_I see the world from rusted trains_  
_And always know I won't be back.”_

Sam was asleep.

Which, y’know, wasn’t bad. It was nice, actually. He rolled around it the darkness, safe and warm for the first time in what felt like . . . forever. The terrible thirst of the demon blood didn’t bother him, for which he was grateful, and the sickening scent of Ruby was gone.

Sam was fighting for Dean, to get him out of Hell. He would do it. He’d save Dean like Dean had saved him so many times, and for once he’d be the hero, not the sidekick, and he’d have Dean back and everything would be good . . .

But he almost didn’t want Dean to come back, for his big brother to see how low he’d stooped into darkness.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in the safety, he’d’ve realized that this sleep was not normal. That he wasn’t in control. 

For him, it was all a dream.

***

_“Who are you?”_ his voice shouted. Sam felt a movement jarring his body, but he didn't feel threatened. Instead, he let it go and sunk deeper into the darkness. It was easier, safer, and everything felt so thick, so _safe . . ._

_“I’m going to try and help as many people as I can,”_ his voice said softly, and Sam listened sleepily.

_“The you of this time is so dark.”_ A woman he doesn’t know is speaking to him, and Sam felt confused. It was a muggy sort of confusion, but he felt this had to be a dream. It had to be. He was in control. He _was._ _“You think about him constantly. The Sam of this year could’ve done so much, saved so many more lives . . . and now you have the chance.”_

Sam wondered what the woman could mean. As dreams went, this was a very odd one. Perhaps this was this a vision or a premonition? Was his subconscious trying to warn him about some far off event that he couldn’t stop?

_“And I intend to use it.”_ Sam’s voice said grimly. _“I may need help.”_

_“Feel free to call,”_ the woman said. _“Can you jot down some protection sigils? If what I read it true, then I’m gonna need ‘em.”_

_“Sure,”_ Sam’s voice said. _“And thanks, really.”_

_“Hey, I see what the future is like . . . and I don’t want that.”_ Sam started struggling, wanting to just wake up, because this wasn’t sounding good, and he needed Dean right now and . . .

A dark, heavy, sluggish fog crawled over him, trapping him in the darkness and caressing his face, soaking into his eyes, nose, mouth, ears . . . it began muting him again, sending him into a deep, deep sleep.

_“No, no you don’t,”_ Sam’s voice said as Sam himself blacked out.

***

When Sam struggled into semi-wakefulness, he zeroed in on the stream of words that flowed into the darkness. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him, but he was sure that if he was in danger, De—Ruby would save him. Ruby would.

Dean was dead.

He shied away from that thought. Dean was . . . He was dead _for now. > That was all._

_“We have not met yet,”_ A deep and gravelly said. _“Yet I see that I am familiar to you.”_

_“Dean described you,”_ Sam’s voice said. _“It’s an honor to meet you.”_ And Sam could feel the amusement that wafted through the darkness, circling him with the taunting gait of _I know something you don’t know._

Wait.

Dean.

Deandeandeandeandean . . . _Shouting, screaming, blood spurting everywhere, nowaitnononoDeanno . . . Laughing, laughing, screaming, silence._

_Silence._

Silence.

_“I see,”_ The man with the deep voice said, and Sam thought the other man did not like Sam very much. _“I have been ordered to watch both you and your brother.”_ And Sam’s heart sunk before rising with a fury of see how well that worked out, what with Dean in fucking Hell. _“Dean is . . . busy.”_ The man said, though his tone suggested he was uncomfortable. _“But, when I looked for you, I saw nothing.”_

More silence.

_“At the same time,”_ the man continued. _“A Seal that locks Lucifer in his Cage was saved. Now tell me, Sam Winchester, what do you make of that?”_

Seals? Lucifer? Cage? What?

It was obvious the man knew who he was, but what was he talking about?

_“I don’t know,”_ Sam’s voice said, an almost-echo.

_“Your thoughts are about the demon Ruby and her blood, yet you have not been to see her in quite a while, and now that I am close I see that there is no demon blood in your veins. So, Sam Winchester, what are you hiding?”_

What?

Sam was trapped under the stream of _wrong._ This dream, this . . . whatever it was, it wasn't making sense. Not that dreams usually did, but he couldn't see anything, which was unusual in and of itself. Sam tried to shudder, but he didn't have a body. He listened, instead, wondering if this was a vision. Was this a conversation from the future in which there was, what, some sort of Lucifer cult?

It wouldn't be the craziest thing he had ever come across.

_“Castiel,”_ his voice said calmly, patiently. _“If Dean and I had a choice between an entire town being destroyed and a Seal being broken, we would choose to save the town.”_

What town?

_“Why?”_ the man—Castiel, apparently—asked.

_“Because it is the right thing to do,”_ Sam said. _“Humans are God’s children.”_ Wasn’t Castiel an angel name? Jess had loved angel names, and often told him them. Michael, Gabriel, Balthazar, Daniel, Dumah, Harut, Metatron, Puriel, Uriel, Cassiel, also called Castiel . . . He remembered that much.

Were angels real? Dean and Dad had never believed, even if Sam secretly had. But if angels were real . . . Then where had they been when he had tried to get Dean out of his Deal?

 _“That is said,”_ his voice continued, unaware of Sam’s musings. _“in the Bible. I don’t know how much of that book is real or false, but that much is clear. Destroying a town of His children is not Right or Just. It’s wrong. If there is a Seal, send Dean and I in. We’ll find the culprits and tell you. You can then move in and destroy the people who are trying to break the Seal, not the humans who are innocently living in the town._

His visions were never like this. They were never this long, never his coherent. The thought chilled Sam to his core.

_“I have made mistakes, Castiel. I know I am evil, and I know what runs through my veins. I can feel the darkness inside of me. You—you’re Light, you’re blessed. You are everything_ I wish I could be. But I live with my curse, and I try to do right by the world. Me and my brother? We save people, we hunt things that would kill them. Not all humans are good, but not all are bad, and they all deserve a chance to live and try to make the world better. That’s what angels should be guarding and protecting. That’s what you should be fighting for.” 

Okay. So, angels. Now real. Sam would watch for them in the future.

_Now what the hell was going on?_

Sam clung desperately to the notion it was all a premonition, not something that was _actually happening right that minute._

It _couldn't_ be real. It just couldn't. Because if this was happening in the moment . . .

_“I will think on what you said, Sam.”_ Castiel said. 

. . . Then who the hell was using his mouth to speak?

“And I will watch you and your brother and see if you are right," Castiel continued, utterly oblivious to Sam's silent screaming. “But you will explain to me, one day, just what you are up to.”

That caught Sam's attention. Present tense. Dean. I _will_ watch you and your brother.

_“One day I will, Castiel,”_ whoever was using his voice said. _“But today is not that day. I need time.”_

_“To do what?”_ Castiel asked.

_“I’ll tell you one day, Castiel.”_

_“You are not as powerful as you think,”_ Castiel said softly, dangerously, and Sam was afraid. _“You are the abomination. What are you planning?”_

The abomination.

Sam’s heart sunk, and he tried not to cry out in fear and hatred and sadness and self-loathing because of _course_ he wasn’t pure. He wasn’t pure and he was evil and dark and why would the angels care and . . .

And he wasn't even in charge of his body at the moment. He was possessed, or something. He was even dirtier than normal . . . He was _unclean._

_“I have seen things you wouldn’t imagine,”_ his voice said and the danger and darkness that radiated to Sam in his cocoon was even more terrifying than a pissed of angel because if push came to shove . . . Sam could kill the angel, could hurt it in ways the angel didn’t know about, could destroy it thoroughly and utterly and without hassle on his own part. _“Things that are much more terrifying and horrible than one little angel, Castiel. You don’t frighten me, you don’t scare me. Back off and let me do what I need to do.”_

_“I will find out what you are planning, Sam Winchester,”_ Castiel said. _“And should it prove evil in nature, as evil as the demonic blood you have in your veins, than I will kill you myself.”_

_“I know you will,”_ Sam’s voice retorted. _“But this will not harm you or Dean or anyone. I’m saving you!”_

_“If that is the truth, then I will not impede you,”_ Castiel said at last, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief because the darkness surrounding him, while feeling safe, was also shadowed in a way Sam himself was not. _“But if you are lying . . .”_

_“I not,”_ Sam’s voice said empathically.

There was a sound of flapping wings and then nothing.

Silence.

***

Sam tuned out for a while, tired in a way he wasn’t sure he was supposed to feel, if he was asleep.

Thing was, he wasn’t sure if he _was_ asleep.

The darkness surrounding him put him in mind of demon smoke.

He was pretty sure he was possessed.

Like, 95% sure.

He wasn’t completely sure, because when he’d been possessed by Meg it had been a poisoned sleep, full of sulfur and hatred and rotten smoke.

This one was just . . . safe.

He had never heard of someone who had been possessed who felt safe. He was pretty sure he had just succumbed to a whole new level of freak for even considering such a thing.

He rolled over and listened, hearing raised voices and fury.

_“I don’t care what you think of Anna,”_ Sam’s voice said . . . or Sam himself? Maybe this was a dream. Maybe he was just crazy.

Focus, Winchester.

He knew that the lady had spoken of time, and . . . a future self?

His experience with time travel was limited to _Back to the Future_ reruns with Dean. He couldn't be . . . He couldn't have been possessed by _himself_ , right? 

That was just too weird, even for a Winchester.

For lack of a better option, he labeled the person using his mouth as Other Sam, because while he didn't want to use his own name, he wasn't going to call the person "Bob" or "Jack" or something. He listened intently as Other Sam continued to speak. _“But this is her second chance. She’s different from what you think you know—she’s innocent.”_

_“She is far from innocent,”_ Castiel’s deep said.

_“Is that your opinion?”_ Other Sam's voice was trembling with fury. _“What right do you have to judge?”_

Sam wanted to hit Other Sam. _Angel_. Kinda their deal there.

_“I have every right,”_ Castiel said. _“What would you know of Right, Sam Winchester?”_

_“More than you, apparently,”_ Other Sam said coolly. _“I may have made some mistakes, but I don’t kill someone just because they are abomination.”_

_“You_ hunt _abominations,”_ Castiel said.

_“No,”_ Other Sam denied. _“We hunt evil. We hunt creatures that hurt for pleasure or gain. We don’t hunt them because they live; we hunt them because of what they choose to do.”_

_“Then Dean should kill you!”_ a new voice said. Sam couldn’t place the accent, but it was the voice of an African American or African man, clean and deadly and deep. Sam felt a dark hatred emanating from other Sam. _“You are evil!”_

Sam felt those words pierce him like knives.

If angels thought that, what hope was there that he could be saved?

In his distress, he barely noticed the oozing fog return and send him under.

***

Sam blinked.

Actually blinked.

Like, with his eyes.

He sat up and looked around, confused. There was a woman there. A dark haired woman with some rock band shirt and tight jeans and her eyes closed. Dean’s body was lying next to her.

_Dean’s body._

Sam stared hungrily at it, taking in the lack of scars and the healthy pallor that coated his skin. Sam swung his legs around and placed them silently on the floor, intending to grab Dean and leave when the woman opened her eyes.

“Sam,” she greeted him. Sam looked at her, her voice familiar . . . the lady other Sam was talking to earlier.

“Hi,” he said warily. “I take it Other Sam is busy doing something?”

The woman looked at him sharply. “How do you know that?”

“Um,” Sam stammered. “I just . . . I had to call him something. I-I’m not asleep all the time.”

“Well, shit,” the woman said.

It occurred to Sam that he might be a hostage. Frankly, the fact that it took so long to occur to him should have been his biggest warning that something was _very_ wrong. “Please,” he said quickly. “I won't tell anyone, just let me go and I can, uh, I can pay you or something . . .” 

“Dean’s alive,” the woman interrupted.

Sam took a shuddering breath, peering at the Dean-body out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't going to just trust her word for it. He had met shapeshifters before.

 _Play along, wait and see,_ had been his dad's advice.

That was advice that would help him, for once, Sam decided. So he said, “I see that.” He didn't dare look at his brother or the slight rise and fall of his not-brother's chest.

“It's been about seven months, now,” the woman said softly, and Sam felt his heart freeze up.

“What?” he choked, looking back at the woman.

She looked sadly back at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But it’s true. Sam . . . other Sam . . . he doesn’t know how he got back here or what’s been going on, but he’s trying to make it right.”

“Make what right?” Sam asked fearfully. He had been . . . Jesus, _seven months_ . . .

“Everything,” the woman said. “Apparently, everything went to hell in his future, and he was suddenly cast back here without any reason and now he’s trying to make our future a bit brighter.”

Play along. Play along. Play along, Sam Winchester. Play along.

He was breathing heavily. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. The woman thought the Other Sam was him, his future self. _Play along._ “I screw up everything, somehow, and he’s trying to fix my mistakes.”

The woman refused to answer, and instead leaned closer to him. “You were trying to do the right thing,” she said. “And I, for one, don’t fault you for that. However, right now other Sam needs your body so that he can save Dean and stop Lilith.”

“What about me?” Sam demanded. “It’s my body!”

The woman just smiled sadly, cupped his cheek, and Sam was once again in darkness.

***

Sam was in darkness.

He didn’t remember what he’d learned, the memories tucked deep within his mind and covered with lots of duct tape and staples.

But he was fine. Asleep and fine.

Really, it’s not like the darkness felt bad. It felt safe. He felt safe and warm for the first time in what felt like . . . forever. The terrible thirst of the demon blood didn’t bother him, for which he was grateful, and the sickening scent of Ruby was gone.

Because for him, he was still in that motel room with Ruby. It was September. Dean was dead. Sam was spiraling into darkness. For Dean.

But right now he was asleep and safe.

It was nice.

Then suddenly he felt a presence, a terrible, horrible presence that chilled him to the core because the scent of blood _(Bobby’s, Ellen’s, Jo’s, Dean’s . . .)_ coated it and the edge of the abyss was right behind it, waiting for the presence to make one wrong move and claim it forever.

_Who’s there?_ He frantically thought, backing up and curling far away from the horrible thing.

_I’m your future self._ This thing said and Sam shook his head in denial.

_. . . Right._ Sam thought, because sarcasm worked for Dean, and right now he needed his brother. _What are you doing in my head?_

_Time travel,_ the thing thought. _Here._

It started pulling memories out of his mind and pushing them into Sam’s. 

_Blood, fire, screaming, pain, betrayal, hurt, terror, loss, grief, hatred, choking, run, danger, hide, beg, fight, no, please, don’t, no, thirst, power, no, hide, pain, no, no, no, hide, screaming . . ._

Sam saw the last year as it had gone when the other Sam had done the first time around and how it went this time and the effects of the first timeline years into the future. He saw bits and pieces of the Cage, of being soulless and insane and sick from God’s work, and the sickly sweet aura of Gadreel, and the terror of _black._

Sam saw the broken Dean just arrived from Hell and the self-loathing he was experiencing and the darkness that had consumed him. He saw Ruby taunting him as Lucifer was set free and how the next year was. How Sam was broken and Cas was broken and Dean was broken and 

_painnostophurtrunbeghidepleasestopno_

and how Sam had had a second chance to make things better and there was no way he wasn’t going to take that offer and have Sam mess it up because Sam was caught up in how the world owed him happiness when it didn’t, and how he wanted Dean back when he didn’t deserve him and how Dean would have been better off without Sam around to screw up his life . . .

Then there was this year. This year with Sam making things right and saving lives and hunting things and _remembering_ what this life was about, because it wasn’t about revenge or hate, it was about protection and love and other Sam wanted Sam see that . . .

And Sam was gasping in rage and fear and hurt and betrayal and guilt and every emotion that other Sam himself had felt over the years, desperately wanting to fix everything that had occurred because of his stupidity . . .

And then it was gone, the after effects writhing around in his mind, fighting like feral cats and Sam just wanted to fold in on himself and cry and cry and he was being

shaken

awake

“Sam? SAM? Sammy, can you hear me?” Dean's voice. _Dean’s_ voice. It was Dean’s, deep and rougher and more broken than before, but that was okay because he was awake now, and he groaned and heard Dean sigh in relief and opened his eyes and there Dean was.

Dean was looking healthy and scared and so, so hopeful.

“Dean,” Sam croaked and pulled his big brother down into a hug, which Dean returned and Sam closed his eyes in horror at what he would have done, at what it would have cost Dean.

“Hiya, Sam,” Dean said, pulling back. “It’s been a while.”

“I . . .” Words failed him and he simply buried his face back into Dean’s shoulder and shook silently from repressed sobs because Dean was alive and here in front of him.

Dean patted his shoulder and Sam could practically feel Dean smirking at him for being such a girl, but right then Sam didn’t care.

“So, you were possessed by your older self,” Dean said casually. “For a year. I didn’t know for most of it.”

“I know,” Sam’s voice was thick and muffled. “He showed me everything. Flashlights and cats aren’t _that_ scary, Dean.” The last bit slipped out, but God . . . _Dean._

“Shaddup,” Dean said good-naturedly. “Thank God older Sam told you. I was all prepared for the most awkward conversation ever.”

“Not something people usually expect,” Sam said and pulled back from Dean to stare at his brother, and his eyes were rimmed with red and watery because he was _not going to cry._ “God, Dean,” he breathed. “I am so sorry.”

“I know, Sam,” Dean said quietly. “I know.”

Sam was barely aware of Bobby and the man who had to be Castiel because he looked every bit as awkward as his voice sounded and who was glaring slightly at Sam, and a woman he didn’t know with red hair and a kind face.

Sam just buried his face back into Dean’s shoulder because Dean was alive and Sam could do the right thing this time.

***

Sam paused before the doorway, looking at his face, the face he would have in five years. He’d grown bigger, he noted. Older. His hair was longer, and he looked like a man who had nothing to live for and everything to die for.

“So,” Sam said quietly from the doorway. Other Sam and Cas looked up to see him leaning against the door frame. “Time travel?”

“Time travel,” Other Sam said. “It was unexpected.” A quick grin of sardonic amusement flitted over his lips.

“I know,” Sam said because he did, now. “Why didn’t you just tell Dean?”

“Because I wanted to protect him from what I’ve done, what he’ll do, and what the world would be like,” Other Sam said quietly. “It was the right thing to do.”

Sam saw Dean lean against the wall on the other side of the kitchen, not quite ready to let Sam out of his sight, and wanting to hear what was happening. Sam did not blame him and merely focused on . . . well, himself.

“For you,” Sam said, trying to understand. “You lied to Dean for a year.”

“You would have, too,” Other Sam said. “I, however, was saving the world and his life at the same time. I dunno—I guess it was good reasoning for me.”

Sam looked down, guilt and hated and rage churning in his belly. “Was that really going to happen? The end of the world?”

“Yes,” Other Sam said matter-of-factly. “It was.”

“Ruby betrayed me,” Sam hissed, seeing Dean flinch and Sam felt like tearing into his skin to dig the darkness out and scrubbing his skin until nothing remained but the blood and muscles underneath just to feel _clean_ again. “She was _using_ me.”

“Yeah,” Other Sam said. “But you didn’t really do anything unforgiveable.”

“I drank demon blood,” Sam muttered, looking down in guilt and hearing Dean breathe a little sigh. “That was wrong.” He felt like such a child, such a gullible, whiney child.

“Yeah, but at the time it wasn’t,” Other Sam said and he didn't sound contemptuous. He sounded like he understood. Because he _did_. “So you’re not addicted?”

Sam shook his head. “No,” he said. “The effects are gone.”

“Your mind is clear,” Other Sam said. “Keep it that way.”

Like other Sam needed to tell him that. Sam wouldn’t touch that stuff without a fifty foot pole between him and it.

“How did I not see?” Sam asked.

“She was clever,” Other Sam said. “Don’t blame yourself. There . . . there wasn’t a way you could have known. There really wasn’t. She was too good.” He shot a glance at Cas, who smiled encouragingly and Sam had the feeling that he and Cas had spoken about it many, many times and maybe . . . just maybe, other Sam was starting to forgive himself a tiny bit.

“I still should have seen it,” Sam said softly. “She is—was—a demon.”

Because other Sam killed Ruby, and Sam wished he could have helped.

“Not all demons are pure evil,” Other Sam said and grimaced. “They have very human motivations. Ruby could’ve had a motive that did not include manipulating you into starting the Apocalypse. She could have really and truly wanted Lilith dead.”

“But she didn’t,” Sam said. Dean got up silently and moved over to the far side of the room where Anna and Castiel were fighting. Sam hoped Castiel didn’t smite Dean, because he liked Castiel’s future self, the one who was sitting comfortably at Bobby’s kitchen table with a calm, serene expression on his face.

“No,” Other Sam agreed. “But use this and learn from it.”

“Okay,” Sam said. There was a brief moment of silence, punctuated by Dean and Castiel arguing about Heaven’s Righteousness.

“I don’t think the dark haired angel liked me,” Sam said with a sideways glance at Cas. Cas laughed softly.

“I was told you were an abomination,” he told Sam. And Sam flinched, feeling a phantom of emotion that burned with fire. “Prove him wrong. You are a good person, Sam Winchester. You just have to work on your decision making abilities.”

“Yeah,” Sam said as other Sam laughed. “I will.”

Suddenly the room shook, the lights flickering. Other Sam and Cas stood, looking around as the walls creaked and the windows rattled in their frames.

“Sammy?” Dean called out, panicked. Sam, other Sam and Cas hurried into the main room, standing with the rest as they looked around. Sam hurried over to his brother, who was looking intently for him. He stood by Dean, gripping his shoulder tightly as the room creaked threateningly.

“What’s happening?” Bobby yelled, looking at other Sam and Cas as if they had all the answers, and maybe they did.

Sam could see that other Sam knew what was going on.

Other Sam and Cas shared a look. “This didn’t happen last time,” Other Sam said as the room groaned under stress from an invisible force.

“So, what, you changed things and this happens?” Dean barked. Sam shot him a disbelieving look, because other Sam had saved them from a shitstorm and _several_ Apocalypses, and Dean should tone it down a bit.

Other Sam closed his eyes for a moment, opening them to look at the group with wounded, tortured eyes. “No,” he said. “This has nothing to do with your time and everything to do with mine.”

“What do you mean?” The red headed woman—Anna—shouted.

“This person is from my time,” Other Sam said. “Don’t attack, don’t do anything. Let me and Cas handle this.”

“Who is it?” Sam hissed as, all at once, the shaking died. Footsteps climbed the stairs outside and three knocks resounded on the door.

“It’s my brother,” Other Sam said as the door burst open and Dean Winchester stood before it, eyes black and smirk cold.

Sam felt his blood freeze, because it _couldn’t_ be Dean. It couldn’t be, because Dean was out of Hell, he wasn’t a demon, he was safe . . .

“Hiya Sammy,” The-thing-that-is- _not_ -Dean said. “There you are. Been looking all over for you.”

***

“Dean,” Other Sam said cordially. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He looked much calmer than Sam would have felt in the sight of something so repulsive.

Demon Dean chuckled and started walking around the room, eyeing them all—including Sam’s Dean—and easily avoiding the Devil’s Traps in the room. The black gave way to his regular eye color. “Yeah, well,” he said and shrugged with nonchalance. “Cas is good, I’ll give you that. But I am a Legacy, and his wards didn’t keep me out for long.”

“And the spell?” Other Sam asked, not moving at all but for his eyes, tracking his brother’s movements. Sam wasn’t sure what they were talking about with _Legacies_ , but obviously other Sam and Cas were having no trouble keeping up with the conversation.

“Cas left it out,” Demon Dean said. He stopped in front of the other group. He smirked at other Sam. “It was just lyin’ out on the tables. It was easy to copy and preform.”

“Well, welcome to 2009,” Other Sam said.

“You managed to clean up pretty well,” Demon Dean said and paused in front of Sam, eyeing him. “Lilith is gone?” Sam stared resolutely back at Demon Dean, trying to ignore the primal instinct within him that screamed that he should _hide_.

Other Sam nodded. “Trapped her and locked her away.”

“Good,” Demon Dean said and continued moving. Sam felt sick, eyeing Demon Dean in shock and horror. His Dean, who was whole and healthy and perfect, just looked resigned like he’d expected it. Maybe other Sam had told him beforehand. Bobby was just . . . the old man was looking at Dean with a stoic expression, that screamed pity and confusion and resignation.

“Y’know,” Demon Dean said, and suddenly he was addressing Dean who glared with hatred. “We were so afraid of turnin’ into a demon, but we just had to save Sammy, right? The Deal was natural, the price worth it. But . . . well, what we were really afraid of was the fact that we weren’t strong enough. That’d we’d get off that rack and carve us up some souls.”

“So?” Dean spat and Sam couldn’t breathe, all of a sudden, because Dean wasn’t a demon, but at some point in time . . . he went back to Hell. There’s no other way to make a demon. Dean went to Hell again, and Sam suspected it was because of him . . . _again_.

He really, really wanted to vomit.

Demon Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “We did, and it’s not half bad.” He grinned, and his eyes flickered black for a moment. “It’s really not.”

Dean threw a punch, but Demon Dean just batted it away. “I’ve been to Purgatory,” he told Dean with amusement. “For a year, fighting for my life, running and learning and growing. You’ll never be able to take me down.”

“I can try,” Dean growled.

Demon Dean laughed, throwing his head back. “Try,” he said, “is the key word there. I’d kill you before you even got a chance to connect.”

“You’d be killing your younger self,” Sam tried.

“Would I?” Demon Dean asked, cocking his head and stepped back, away from the group. “’Cause I certainly don’t remember this ever happening.”

“It’s an alternate timeline,” Cas agreed. 

“Yatzhee,” Demon Dean said, pointing to Cas. “So, I could kill you all and take over this God forsaken world if I wanted to.”

“We’d stop you,” Castiel said, striding forwards to glare at Dean.

“You could try,” Demon Dean agreed and pulled out a jawbone attached to a worn stick from his jacket pocket. The rough bone was missing a few teeth, and there was dried blood crusted over it. Sam felt sick Not only did he _feel_ the darkness and blood lusting rage emanating from it, but he also could, maybe, almost hear the screams of the people Demon Dean had killed. Maybe it was all in his head, but he couldn’t imagine they had died quickly. He wondered if it was human or demon—or angel. Who knew what Demon Dean could do. He wasn’t sure what kind of weapon it was, but judging from the wary looks other Sam and Cas were shooting it, it wasn’t anything good.

Was this demon even Dean?

Castiel refused to take a step back even as Demon Dean smiled a smiled that screamed ‘psychopath’ to Sam.

“Not gonna work, angel,” Demon Dean said. “You don’t scare me.”

“No,” Castiel agreed. “But I know you. I built you up atom by atom as I raised you from Perdition.” Sam quirked an eyebrow at Dean, who shrugged, grimacing.

Demon Dean snorted. “It’s been a long time,” he said. “I highly doubt you know _anything_ about me anymore.”

“Me? No.” Castiel said. “But he does.” He nodded to Cas, who stared at Dean with the same intense look. Sam blinked, struck by the change. From what he’d seen of Cas, the dude was laid back with a sardonic, deadpan humor that crept into conversations at unexpected times. To see him suddenly serious and preforming an uncannily similar stance and expression as his younger self was disorienting to say the least.

“You didn’t go to Hell to become a demon, Dean,” Cas said quietly. “You were human when you changed, in our world, trying to save Heaven from Metatron.”

Wait, _what?_

Okay, so Sam was relieved that Dean didn’t go to Hell. He was. Of course he was. He just wasn’t sure if being turned outside of Hell meant you were less likely to go on random killing sprees and possessing people for fun.

Could it mean that Dean still remembered humanity? Still remembered Sam? What it is to be family? To be sitting in the Impala belting out to some old soundtrack? To salivate at the sight of greasy food and beer? To tease his younger brother, who teased right back?

Did Demon Dean remember that?

“And see where that got me?” Demon Dean said, turning to face Cas.

“I do,” Cas said in that same tone. “But we can fix it.”

Demon Dean smiled dangerously. “Not gonna happen,” he said and swung at Cas. Other Sam shouted and leapt in front of the fallen angel, blocking Dean’s hit.

Sam and Dean watched in shock and dismay as their older selves began to fight. It wasn’t like when he and Dean fought. Even when Dean was pissed off at him, he would make sure that he didn’t hurt Sam too badly, and Sam would make sure to play by the rules of fighting.

It wasn’t like they were fighting monsters, either. Then it was self-defense mostly, with a few jabs thrown in.

No, this was no holding back, all out fighting. They were fighting to hurt, and to hurt badly. The expressions were twisted forms of sadistic enjoyment (Demon Dean) and a snarling combination of satisfied revenge and brutal regret (other Sam). Sam and other Sam’s eyes met for a second, blood flowing from other Sam’s nose, and Sam had to look away.

Dean may be a demon, but other Sam had devolved as well.

He was human, of course. But with all of their friends dead or missing, there was no one but each other to help them pull back from the brink. Other Sam had kept it together because he was with a younger Dean for a year, but now that Cas and Demon Dean were there, he was falling back into familiar paths, including something—primal, animalistic. 

Sam remembered a glimpse of the soulless Sam, of the insane Sam, and wondered if other Sam had realized he’d never quite gotten rid of them completely.

When Demon Dean raised a hand to strike other Sam, Cas jumped in front of him, eyes hard and stance firm.

“Cas!” other Sam shouted.

“Think about what you’re doing,” Cas said urgently, “You are hurting your brother, someone you have sworn to protect. You are still very much human, Dean. Think about what you’re doing.”

“Like I care. I’m a demon,” Demon Dean snarled. “I was human.”

“Whatever happened to Team Free Will, Dean?” other Sam asked, wiping blood away from his nose. “One ex-blood junkie, one drop out with six bucks to his name and Mr. Comatose?”

Demon Dean laughed. “There is no free will,” he said. “Haven’t we been shown that enough times?”

“So we give up?” other Sam demanded. “Let everything drop because we decide we’re done?”

“You’re the one who’s always wanted to get out,” Demon Dean said. “Don’t see why now wouldn’t be a good time for you to suddenly want on the bus.”

Other Sam shook his head. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I know that this life—this is the life I’m going to live.”

“You’ve said that before,” Demon Dean dismissed. “Doesn’t mean anything now.”

“It does this time,” Other Sam said. “Just trust me.”

“After all you’ve done?” Demon Dean spat, eyes hard and hateful.

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, dismay written all over their faces. They didn’t want to turn out like these two. _Sam_ didn’t want to turn out like that. They were so . . . inhuman. So broken. So dead. Other Sam got to his feet, staring straight at Demon Dean without fear.

“Shall we go through the list, Sam? For our audience? Choosing Ruby, freeing Lucifer, losing your soul—going insane. Trying to kill Benny.” Sam felt Dean tense in shock, and he nudged his brother’s shoulder with his own, trying to give some form of comfort to the shorter man.

“Yeah?” Other Sam asked. “You’ve messed up too, Dean. It’s part of life. I will always try to make up for my sins, but I can’t do that without you, because you’re the only one who knows, and the only one whose forgiveness matters to me.”

“You’ll be waiting forever, then,” Demon Dean laughed cruelly, eyes glittering with malice.

Other Sam shrugged. “So what? Just trust me to do this right now, Dean. Trust me to help you, and we’ll cure you, Dean.” Sam blinked. Cure a demon? Awesome. That’d be useful.

“What if I don’t want to be cured?” Demon Dean sneered. “What then?”

“Then we’ll work it out,” Other Sam said, voice suddenly hoarse. “Just like we always do.”

Demon Dean tilted his head, eyes once again black, and suddenly it was like he and other Sam were the only ones in the room, and if anyone dared to interrupt they’d be killed brutally, efficiently, and quickly.

“We will,” Other Sam said. “You just have to trust me, Dean, just for a little bit. Please.”

Demon Dean tilted his head slightly and raised his hand to snap his fingers. Suddenly he and other Sam weren’t in Bobby’s house anymore.

They were gone.

***

Sam clutched the little leather notebook his older self had given them in his hand and sat back against the Impala’s windshield.

The time travelers had come and gone without a goodbye, but Sam was glad to see them go. They had helped his timeline, but the darkness that boiled beneath the surface had warned him, had made him shy away. He no longer wanted to utilize his demonic powers for good—because suddenly humanity was looking that much more appealing. Why waste his life on maybes and revenge when he had Dean and Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Castiel now (who really didn’t want to Fall, but admitted that he enjoyed being with the Winchesters and was liking Earth quite a bit despite its oddness) and he didn’t want to ruin it.

He glanced down at the journal again and flipped through it, looking at his own writings about events that would probably never happen.

The journal was divided into three parts; how other Sam’s timeline had gone, how to kill and cure different creatures as well as magical artifacts and their uses, and events that will happen no matter what.

(Sam had choked a little when he saw that Henry Winchester was supposed to pop in from 1958 with a key to the Bunker and a Knight of Hell on his tail. They were supposed to shoot the Knight with a bullet that had a Devil’s Trap carved into it and chop her head off, burying bits of her meat suite all over the world. Sam felt kinda sick about that, because other Sam mentioned that the only thing that can kill a Knight of Hell was the First Blade, which turned Dean into a demon.)

(Sam would take body parts everywhere from Hong Kong to fucking Canada if he had to)

(Dean was not turning into a demon.)

(Ever.)

“Whatcha up to?” Dean asked as he walked over, two beers in hand. Sam raised his eyes from the journal to accept one of the bottles.

“Readin’,” Sam said. “I’m really glad we aren’t living in their timeline.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean replied and leaned against the hood. “Makes you wonder how they’re doin’.”

“I hope they’re okay,” Sam said softly. “I hope things worked out. They really deserve a break.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah,” he said. “I know you were asleep for most of it, but your future self wasn’t half bad.”

“He scared me,” Sam murmured.

Dean shot him a glance. “An’ you think my future self didn’t?”

“Your future self was a demon,” Sam said. “Mine wasn’t, but he was . . .”

“Barely human,” Dean offered. “I know. ‘S why I flipped out on him a couple ’a times.”

“You flipped?” Sam smirked.

“Dude, the guy knew all the hunts and knew how to kill everythin’ and acted like he was better than me,” Dean complained.

“I’m sure he wasn’t trying to,” Sam soothed. “But he did have a lot to do.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said.

They sat in silence for a long time, looking up at the faint stars.

“Think we can get out of this life?” Dean asked suddenly. “Y’know, go live a normal life without anythin’ trying to kill us.”

“I think most monsters and demons and angels won’t respect our wishes,” Sam pointed out.

Dean shrugged, still not looking at him. “I’m not saying we be stupid ‘bout it,” he said. “And I’m not saying we retire. We go out and get a home. Engrain salt into the window and door sills, stuff like that. Settle down. Get jobs.”

“You’d hate that,” Sam said.

Dean hesitated. “’M not so sure,” he said at last. “Can we try?”

Sam looked at Dean for a long time. “We could,” he said. “We could try.”

Dean gave him a small smile, which Sam returned. They both looked up at the night sky, and as they watched, a shooting star flared brightly before fading to the horizon.

_“I still miss you_  
_There's no goin' home_  
_There's no goin' home_  
_With a name like mine_  
_I still dream of you_  
_But everyone knows_  
_Yeah everyone knows_  
_If you can, let it go.”_


End file.
